The Estufa Story

One of the things that sold the house to us, was the beautiful open Spanish fireplace. Not to bothered about the attached shelves, but a lovely open corner fire. However, as winter approached (not helped by the terrible flooding during September) we realised that a true open fire does not really heat up a room. We tried one, and the walls got lovely and warm. So warm in fact, that it was impossible to have anything near the bedroom wall, (one the other side) without the fear of spontaneous combustion taking place. Equally, the terrace was now well heated, by the 150^o external wall. Not quite what we had in mind. Evidently, what we needed was some sort of contained fire.

A visit to friends in Andalucia revealed the existence of a cast iron, corner stove. I want one. I coveted their stove so much, they took me to the shop that sold them, the problem was, we had gone to visit on the motorbikes, making it impossible to buy one (and get it back). It was quite some distance, so a future visit was not a good plan – there must be somewhere nearer home that sold them. Mustn’t there…?

Well, I think we visited every fireplace shop within a circumference of about 40 miles – and that’s quite a few towns and villages. The bigger shops had swanky stainless steel ones for over €2,000 and the little shops had fire grates for €100. Corner one’s seemed to be anathema. Finally, we found one, at the right price, not to far away. I had made up an ‘Estufa Buying Kit’ by now, which consisted of a brown paper pattern of the floor, including measurements, plus a photo of where the fire was to go. We showed the sales man where we wanted the fireplace, and he smiled and said “no”. It would be impossible to get it into position. Slightly deterred, we went home again, and made a full scale mock-up of our hearts desire, and thied to get it in place. He was right! The angles needed to tilt the fireplace made it impossible to fit. Time to try again.

In the midst of our travels, one salesman had told us, that the little feet on all of the cast iron fireplaces could be removed. This suddenly opened up more possibilities, of one’s that we had seen, that we thought were too tall. Finally, we went back to one of the first shops we had called at (typical) and selected the fire, using the usual combination of hand signals, pointing and smiling. “Esta” that one covers a multitude of requests. This was followed by a flurry of apparent understanding. Then, for some reason, we found ourselves following a little chappie out of the store. As he beconed us to follow him, him got in his truck, and we were to follow him too. Where and why was beyond us, but he was smiling and insistent! Duly, we drove out of town, around the back of an industrial estate, where it transpired that our shop kept their store of fires, the one’s in the shop being display models. Aha. Carefully, the chappie moved an assortment of fires, until he got ours. Then, he simply fork-lifted it on to the back of our truck. We then selected the necessary pipes to go up the chimney – one black, the others galvanised. Then, we left the industrial estate, and Ed said, with a smile, “Shall we turn right and go home, or left and pay for it?” Indeed, the whole transaction took place, without any money actually changing hands. Just like being in a bar for the evening, the exchange of money seemed to be outside the social aspect of the agreed sale. Needless to say, we did pay!

When we got home, Ed unpacked the whole thing, and took it apart as much as possible. Even then, it was still extremely heavy. Then, disaster struck, just as he lifted the casing off the truck, it slipped, and there was a ‘pop’ as the glass in the front smashed. Oh dear. We carried on putting it in place, and then had to return to the shop, to explain our predicament. “Uno poco problemo” a little problem; we needed a new glass for the door. “Es no problemo” said the man. Then, ignoring us, he asked the little chappie if the door was ok when he gave it to us, who couldn’t tell, as it was wrapped in coloured cellophane. After a few minutes, the little chappie got a screwdriver, and removed the glass from the showroom fireplace, and gave it to us. Problem solved.